


Lune

by starxrossing (humanyubel)



Category: Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, F/F, Gen, He/Him Lesbians, Introspection, Short & Sweet, Sirens, Vampires, Werewolves, nonbinary lesbians
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:40:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21982309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/humanyubel/pseuds/starxrossing
Summary: A series of unconnected oneshots for my best friend. Merry Christmas 2019!
Relationships: Kaiou Michiru/Tenoh Haruka, Seiya Kou/Tsukino Usagi
Kudos: 13





	1. Waterlogged

**Author's Note:**

  * For [werewolfnurse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/werewolfnurse/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michiru knew him better than anyone.

Haruka lay against the hood of his sports card, gazing up at the light of the silvery moon.

Just knowing Usagi was with Seiya at this exact moment was nearly enough to sour his mood completely. 

Even as Michiru perched at his side. 

He shoots her a careful side glance and sees her cool gaze is fixated on something in the distance. 

His stomach churns unpleasantly as he struggles to decode what she’s feeling as he takes in her wavering profile. 

Michiru never seemed to stop moving even when she sat completely still. The lull of waves against a sandy embankment. Its surface may appear completely placid, but look deeper and you’d see the turmoil brewing below.

He sits up, resting his elbows on his thighs.

“I can feel the anxiety pouring off of you in waves.” 

Haruka frowns, eyebrows scrunched together.

“I don’t get anxious.”

Michiru turns to him fully, her cotton shrug slipping further down bare shoulders.

Where he was all hard angles she was soft edges. Together they bled into something truly artful in a way that always left him in awe. 

Together they were more than the sum of their respective parts.

She doesn’t try to refute his point. They know he’s lost the argument as he forces his fingers to stop their erratic tapping. 

He looks down at his hands. Of course, she’d notice parts of himself he didn’t.

But he knew for a fact he was the only one to notice the hard set of her jaw tonight.

A finely manicured hand caressed his cheek as Michiru hummed a familiar melody. Like this can’t feel the calluses on her left hand’s fingertips from years of playing violin. Her right hand was made to hold a bow and Haruka had willingly accepted his role as her instrument.

A violin was only as good as its player and Michiru would settle for no less than Haruka. She strove for perfection and experiences and he fits into that picture.

After a few moments of her gentle ministrations, Haruka lets his shoulder’s slump on a dejected exhale.

He allowed her to direct his gaze to hers, gently tilting his head up.

Her beautiful seafoam eyes are as enchanting as ever. 

“Don’t look at me with those eyes.” He murmured, as she thumbed at the pout of his lower lip.

“I wouldn’t have to if you’d listen to me, darling.” Haruka’s still heart gave a single beat in his chest.

“But…”

“I know.” Michiru reassures, lips curved into a wan smile.

Michiru always knew. That’s part of the reason they fit so well together. They were open books with one another but shielded from anyone else. When you lived their lives, you had to have a great poker face.

But when it was just them? All cards were on the table.

He pressed kisses to her delicate finger tips, feeling Haruka sighed.

“I… I hate how he smells.” His upper lip curls back in a disgusted snarl, sharp canines exposed to the darkness. “Like wet dog. I can’t stand our kitten smelling like that.”

“Usagi isn’t ours.” Michiru helpfully reminds him.

But it was hard to shake centuries of a past life completely dedicated to one person. The love he felt for Usagi was part obligation and part deep seated affection that only grew the longer he knew her in this life.

The best way he could describe it was as a knight serving their lord. 

While he may love Michiru more than life itself , Usagi was the one who owned his heart. She owned everyone’s hearts whether or not they or even she were cognizant of it.

Michiru resented their lot in life- some days more than others. While Usagi owned her heart just as thoroughly as she owned Haruka’s, Michiru was unafraid to bite the hand that fed her.

She forced her way through this life living for herself even as she’d whisper about fate being out of their control. 

Michiru was a performer and she may have the play the part of keeping the world from harm and allowing a new silver millennium of the Moon Kingdom to be ushered into the world… but her greatest act of rebellion was letting her thoughts and feelings slip into her self ordained method acting. 

She was an actress who switched the tides of her character’s actions.

Maybe that was why Michiru was everything to him. Deep down, maybe she was the stronger of the two in their relationship.

She had him wrapped around her ring finger. A promise of forever only they could deliver.

“I know.” Haruka admits. “I know she isn’t ours,” because nothing truly was just one of theirs. They were a package deal and what was hers was his and vice versa. “but we’re here to protect her.”

“And we do.”

“But I don’t trust him.” 

“You don’t have to, my love. Trust in Usagi’s judgement. If we must… we are more than capable of stepping in when she needs us to.”

He knows she has a point but his heart tells him otherwise.

She scoots closer, casting aside her shrug, until they’re pressed close together.

Michiru looks up at him from under long lashes. And how can he not comply? 

He leans in the rest of the way, as her hand settles on his cheek again. 

Haruka sunk into Michiru’s embrace. He’d never be able to resist the charms of his partner.

As he melts, Michiru relaxes as well.

Her bare arms twined around his neck as she anointed his tongue with bitter salt water.

Maybe she loved him so dearly because he’s the only lover she can never drown?

He rests his hands at her waist, pulling her closer. He covers her exposed lower where her blouse had ridden up. Ever the gentleman.

He strokes the downy feathers there. He isn’t fooled by her glamour.

If he were lesser than her idealized version of perfection, she’d lure him into cold depths and let him be picked apart.

But she wouldn’t do that.

Michiru nicks her tongue with the deadly point of one of Haruka’s elongated canines.

The taste of her blood, foreign and familiar floods his mouth. 

She pulls away long enough to fix him a playful look as she licks the blood pooling slowly down her chin. It isn’t too much. 

But Michiru’s sense of danger had always been distorted. Trusting too much in herself. Trusting too much in fate. Trusting too much in _Haruka_. 

It’s incredibly humbling. But he’s never felt as alive as he does when she exists at his side. Beautiful smile on her statuesque face. 

He could tear into her jugular, just as easily as she could claw him apart.

But they would do neither.

He would only press tender kisses to her supple neck and she would only let her hands wander him, a soothing balm to his long dead nerves.

She slides her hands into the lapel of his suit jacket. Presses her left palm against his chest, cupping over the swell of his chest through his button up.

“It’s only us.” She whispers into the still night.

“Only us.” He echoes.

And then she pushes and he lets himself rest back against the hood of his car. She hovers over him, cast in the light of the moon he’s almost able to mistake her for an angel. But he knows she’d take offense.

Wrong winged creature.

She settles against him, resting her cheek against his chest. 

Listening for a beat that doesn’t exist. Luckily she’s a musician. She always creates a new one when she imagines it.

“Let’s not waste such a lovely night.” She tells him. 

They share another kiss before relaxing together.

Michiru burrowed into him like she expected him to wield warmth. But any heat he had was stolen from her.

They lay like that for hours, and she’s dozed off. Nose scrunched up cutely in her sleep.

Seiya and Usagi are the last things on his mind.


	2. Whiskers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seiya worries Usagi will hate him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight gore and unsanitary (talk of eating raw meat)
> 
> Emetophobia
> 
> starts at: As soon as the door swings shut behind him and he’s sure he’s the room’s only occupant, he’s slamming a stall door open. 
> 
> ends at: Simply put, he looked terrible.

Seiya wasn’t typically one for genuine complaints.

Sure, he could be overly dramatic but it was typically done in jest with friends. He kept any truly negative thoughts or feelings to himself.

Which is why his contact with friends had been steadily dwindling over the past week.

He was just as jovial as ever. Every joke and instance of play flirting hit all the right beats.

But other than carefully tousled hair and just the faintest hint of concealer, nothing seemed off about him physically.

He liked that just fine. After all, he spent a sizable chunk of time crafting the facade he faced the world with.

Seiya’s mental health could hit rock bottom and he’d still force himself to go through the motions.

To an outsider he looked just fine but if you took just a second longer… You’d realize something was off about his eyes.

Unbeknownst to him, a familiar set of crystal blue eyes were affixed to him. 

* * *

He’d been out on a group outing the afternoon prior.

Their lessons had let out early and Taiki, Yaten, and himself weren’t the type to waste an opportunity to spend time with their friends.

Everything had been perfect.

That is until Usagi had turned to him and offered the last bite of her strawberry parfait to him.

“Seiya kun, you really aren’t going to order something for yourself?”

Her crystal blue eyes shone like diamonds, round cheeks flushed to match her dessert of choice.

He’d been momentarily star-struck before his brain caught up with his surroundings.

“Well, if you were to insist, Odango…” 

The syrupy sweet chill of the vanilla bean ice cream and single strawberry slice greeted his nose with a vengeance. 

He’d accepted her outstretched spoon with a happy hum, even as his mouth filled with sticky, sour saliva. Stomach-churning before he even had the chance to taste it.

Seiya smiled around the spoon, eyes closing and cheeks going hot with contentment even as he forced himself to not visibly gag.

Strawberry was a flavor he’d grown increasingly fond of since meeting Usagi. But it felt wrong this time.

It was too pink, too sweet, too cold…

If it were up to him he’d be eating something hot as life, crimson caked into his face and bangs. Sharp teeth tearing chunk after chunk of flesh away.

As soon as the thought hits him he shakes it off. Spine arching with revulsion as he mentally recoiled from his morbid thoughts.

He could eat, right now. Nothing was truly stopping him from leaving early to lock himself in his room for the duration of his “monthlies”. 

But it’d make Usagi sad. Taiki and Yaten would obviously rib him for flaking on them but he was well used to their teasing.

They were just starting to shift from the “friends” to “maybe more than friends” stage in their relationship.

Usagi’s breakup with her long term boyfriend had been… rough to put it lightly.

He didn’t want to jeopardize the foundations of their friendship by lashing out unexpectedly.

But he also didn’t want to have her scared out of her wits, seeing him get steadily more irritable. 

He was already subjecting himself to the ordeal of her watching him prance around in skin that he no longer had any rightful claim to.

No matter how Seiya weighed it, he was stuck in a zero-sum situation. 

So he did what he had to.

He excused himself from the table and strolled over to the restrooms.

As soon as the door swings shut behind him and he’s sure he’s the room’s only occupant, he’s slamming a stall door open. 

He drops to his knees, knowing they’ll be bruised later on, but it hardly matters at the moment. He can’t feel anything other than the fever racking through his body.

He heaves over the toilet, hacking and choking on acid and spit.

He wonders, briefly, if his back molars will eventually have enough of his bullshit and rot out. But after a moment scoffs at the idea.

Taiki and Yaten theorized he’d been bitten by a radioactive shark as an infant. 

He doesn’t really care either way honestly at this point. Focusing instead on not choking to death in the cafe’s restroom.

After he’s finished, he takes a moment to breathe and compose himself before standing on unsteady legs. He flushes the toilet and turns to the sinks, taking a hard look at himself.

Simply put, he looked terrible.

He ran a trembling hand over face. His soft brown skin had taken on an unnatural pallor. Cold sweat gathering at his temple.

He sighed into his palm, a single slate blue eye uncovered. His pupils had dilated, nearly swallowing the cloudy iris of his eye.

He inhaled, counted to ten, and exhaled for another count of ten. Then he set to work.

Seiya wet a paper towel and dabbed his face with it, before drying it with another.

He reached into his pocket to retrieve the tin of mints he’d taken to carrying around with him. 

He shook half the tin into his open palm and jammed them into his mouth. 

It was almost worse than the parfait, but he endured. With every second that passed, he found it easier to discard fantasies of blood and bile.

When he’s satisfied with his appearance he rejoins the others and no one… no one is none the wiser.

* * *

He’d called in sick from school with Taiki and Yaten promising to bring his work home for him.

And then he’d spent most of the day drifting in and out of consciousness. Hot compress resting along his lower back. 

Every inch of him aching like he’d overworked every muscle. There was a deep set, exhaustion in his bones.

He couldn’t keep anything more than water down, so he didn’t bother.

He doesn’t remember much, several hours passing felt like minutes that were as weighted as years.

But he remembers briefly waking up to the sound of Taiki and Yaten in the next room over.

His sensitive ears picking up every breath.

_ “He has a fever of 43 Celsius! His insides should be boiling.” Taiki’s voice pitches higher with their concern. _

_ “Seiya always pulls through.” Yaten insists, though Seiya can hear her rabbit pulse pounding against the back of his skull. _

_ “You’re right.” _

_ “Seiya always pulls through.” They say together. _

_ And then Seiya fades out of consciousness again. _

* * *

He calls in sick again the next day.

His fasting spell breaks- even if his mind is still getting progressively more clouded.

He pads barefoot into the kitchen to rummage through the cupboards.

Every time feels almost worse than the month before.

He’s filled with a ravenous sort of hunger that everything that isn't food might as well not exist.

He eats as much tofu as he can manage before guiltily prying open the freezer.

Two steaks, still wrapped from the market greet him.

And then they're gone. He's left to pick bits out from between his sharp teeth. Disgusted at the taste of raw meat.

It temporarily manages to soothe the pain inside him, filling his gut with a heaviness that makes him drowsy once more.

He has the foresight not to leave the packages scattered about the kitchen.

He might have just scarfed everything edible down in record time, but he had to be a courteous roommate. 

* * *

The next day passes by in a daze, when he isn’t tossing in his sheets, he’s pacing the length of his room.

Occasionally he stops to observe the dozens of photos he has hanging around his private respite.

Several are of him, Taiki, and Yaten messing around with two nice photos from New Years.

More are of his group and Usagi’s together. Movie outings and school pictures. A mini collage of pictures of Usagi and him together he’d pinned over his bed.

He’d taken down his wall mirror in a fit of disgust.

He felt ugly.

Usagi’s last boyfriend might’ve been an asshole, but he at least wasn’t an actual monster.

The hair just kept coming in, skin flaky and dry.

Mamoru didn’t shed his own skin monthly. He probably didn’t even need to use lotion.

But mostly he found himself mindlessly prowling in an effort to relieve the anxiety that turned his blood to hot candle wax.

Seiya briefly debated taking down the collage. Finding Usagi’s innocent face frozen in time, forced to stare at what he’d become truly something unbearable. 

Only hours after Taiki and Yaten had come home, he was able to finally reach a state of light meditation.

* * *

The moon called to him, a siren’s song every atom of his being vibrated in tandem with.

The muscle spasms and cramps had finally reached a fever pitch.

He tore at his own skin until he saw red, grunting and groaning to himself.

It was agony, white-hot pain that didn’t fade or ebb into something lesser.

Eventually, his nerves short-circuited from the overwhelming sensational input. 

And then he felt nothing.

After a few hours, he’s able to lay on his wooden floor. Panting to catch his breath.

Like this he was able to stretch, eliminating the deep ache within himself. 

The fur grew in bushy, but its softness was preferable to his razor-sharp claws.

He wasn’t quite wolf, but even by the most liberal of definitions, he couldn’t consider himself fully human either.

Something in between. 

Maybe that would have to be his new norm. If that were the case, what a joke!

Nothing could get worse than this. Nothing.

But alas! …Fate was a cruel composer.

He caught a whiff of familiar buttercream and strawberry.

His mind’s pitched into an endless well of anxiety for a moment.

Can werewolves go bald due to stress? What would a bald werewolf even look like?

He has just enough time to scramble to his open closet door and slip inside before Usagi’s at his window.

She puffs out a triumphant breath as she works the window open and tumbles inside.

“Seiya kun?” She tentatively calls out.

Seiya has to mentally swear at her persistence. 

It was normally something he adored about her. But not really wasn’t the time.

“Seiya kun? Where are you? Why are your clothes torn.”

“I…” his voice always managed to startle him.

“I… I’m sick. You should go home.” Seiya rasps out.

“You’re sick every month.”

Usagi continues into the room, soft footfalls thunderous in Seiya’s ears.

“Are you okay? You haven’t answered any of my calls or texts…” she says.

“My phone was off. What are you doing here?”

Usagi laughs, coming to a stop in front of the closet door. Her small hand rests against the wood. He can almost feel it.

“I wanted to see you, silly.”

Seiya swallows, forcing himself not to cry.

“I don’t… exactly look like myself.”

“Seiya’s Seiya.” Usagi murmurs.

Her voice soft silk. He knows she’s smiling that innocent smile of hers.

Like he’s currently something that deserves it.

“Come out, Seiya kun. I almost broke my neck trying to get up here.”

“I didn’t tell you to visit.” He protests.

“But I wanted to. Take responsibility.”

Seiya doesn’t budge.

Usagi sighs, exasperation with a hint of fondness.

“Is it about your monthlies?”

Seiya’s heart stops.

“You didn’t clean up all the fur last month. And I noticed the claw marks at the bottom of your bedpost the month before that.”

“You…”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to say it. I know.” Usagi whispers. “If you won’t come out, can you at least let me in?”

Seiya chokes back a sob.

Usagi was a rabbit pursuing a wolf.

“What if I hurt you?”

“You won’t.” Usagi answers with unflappable confidence.

It’s enough for his weakened resolve to fully crumble.

He fumbles the door open and squeezes his eyes shut tight, breath frozen in his lungs as Usagi gazes at him for the first time anew.

When he opens his eyes several moments later it's to her soft giggle.

She’s smiling at him just the same as she always does. Blue eyes shining with affection.

“You have whiskers.”

**Author's Note:**

> Lucky if you're reading this ily bro


End file.
